The Beauty of Scenes

When I first contemplated writing novels, I comforted myself by concentrating on scenes. Scenes are units of a story. They're bite-sized nuggets, easily digestible. A scene can be a chapter. Chapters can be a number of scenes, but a scene is an identifiable moment.

One of my favorite tools in my writing kit is the scene list. It's quite easy. When you're dreaming up a project, make a list of all the moments that you think you'd like to have in the story. They don't have to be in order. Some can be even generic. For example, as spelled out in The Story Grid, genres have obligatory scenes. So you already know certain scenes that you will need to have in your book.

I'm currently writing a first draft, and I'm thinking a lot about how to make scenes interesting. Then I witnessed an example the other night while Mike and I watched Midsomer Murders, a British procedural densely populated with eccentrics, festivals, and killings. This particular evening, we watched “Down Among the Dead Men” (Season 9, Episode 4).

Late in the show, DCI Barnaby (John Nettles) believes they have closed a case. The killer is in custody. But then DC Jones (Jason Hughes) asks several questions that make it clear that they have apprehended the wrong man. They know who the murderer is, and he is still out on the loose.

This scene could have taken place anywhere—in their office, in the car, at the pub. However, the writers placed these characters on a British beach. In this story, several people of interest lived at the seaside. DCI Barnaby chose to interview them himself, while he assigned DC Jones more mundane duties at home. Now, with the case closed, both men are at the shore. The usually formal Barnaby celebrates by shucking his suit jacket, rolling up his trousers, and venturing into the sea. But Jones stays up on the rocks. He expresses his doubts by asking his superior questions about the case that lead Barnaby to head back to the beach, yelling to Jones to pick up Barnaby's phone and jacket, as they race to catch the killer. In this way, the writers have taken an obligatory scene and added humor. They have placed it in an interesting locale. We see a side of Barnaby that we don't see often. It's a scene that will stick in my memory.

Watching that moment inspired me to keep looking at my scenes. Are they funny enough? Are they surprising? Do they let readers know all sorts of things while still advancing the story? Can I make them better? Writers face these challenges every day.

A Tribute to Margaret

I didn't want her in my story. When I was writing Joy Returns!, Margaret showed up in my head and refused to leave. She was loud and opinionated. She had a fondness for floral dresses and big hats. She informed me that she was Samantha's grandmother. When I asked if she was her mother's mother, she proceeded to give me an earful. According to Margaret, Betty was a beguiler. She had even, Margaret whispered to me, caused her husband's death.

Well, I knew that wasn't true. Samantha's father had died in a car accident. Betty had not even been on the scene. It had happened because he had wanted to drive through the night to return home, but could you blame Betty for that? She hadn't even known. It was meant to be a surprise. I was aware of all these things, but I didn't mention them to Margaret. I could already tell that it would be a waste of my time.

I did ask her to go. She shook her head in exasperation, stomped her foot, and kept talking. She informed me that she expected to be a key player throughout the book, and she demanded that she be introduced in the first chapter. I said no.

Then I wrote a draft of the first chapter with her in it. I just wanted to prove to her that it wouldn't work. When it was done, I rewrote it again without her in it. Then I wrote it with her in it again and then without and then in, then out, until finally I gave up and surrendered to her demands.

Over time, Margaret became one of my favorite characters. I was quite fond of her dramatic entrances. Once she trusted me, she let me know her vulnerabilities. There were times in the story when I cheered her on.

So, if a character ever shows up in your head, my advice to you would be to make room for her. Give yourself time for a good chat. Ask her what she wants. Listen. Obey. It's really the smart thing to do.

Revisiting Peter Pan

I thought about Peter Pan after a discussion with middle-grade girls. Through the Young Writers Program, I have been volunteering at a local school, and one day, we were talking about names. They have beautiful names. When it was my turn to talk about the origin of my name, I told them that I had been named after the character in Peter Pan. Then I knew I wanted to read the book again.

I was immediately enchanted by the way this story was told. It's an omniscient voice, full of authority, opinions, humor, and fancy words. The opening paragraph demonstrates how Barrie hooks you in immediately:

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!” This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.

The bedroom scenes in this book, at the beginning and the end, are brilliant—the children's introduction to Peter, how he loses his shadow and how Wendy helps him regain it, and the children's escape from their home. The ending, when the children return and Peter's subsequent visits, both to Wendy and to her daughter, is equally poignant.

But other parts are a mess. Barrie wrote Peter Pan in 1904, and some of the story ideas—the offensive notion of “redskins” and the limited, restrictive roles that girls and women could do seriously detract from the charm of the story. There's instances in the end where Mr. Darling, full of remorse for his mistreatment of their dog and governess, Nanny, spends his time in the doghouse. He not only sleeps there; he carries it around with him on his commute to work and at the office. It was another strange moment where I detached from the story.

However, I wouldn't have missed reading it again. It really made me think about narrator voices, and how fun it might be someday to tell a story with that type of tone. And when the book worked, it was so powerful. After I finished reading Peter Pan, I read a tad about J. M. Barrie and learned that his brother had died at fourteen. Barrie's mother had been inconsolable. In his childhood, Barrie tried to comfort her by imitating the way his brother had spoke and wearing his clothes. It is that loss, I think, that gives the story such heft. Peter is never coming back. We can't hold him here. That boy will not grow up.

So, after I read that book again, what did I think about my name? I have wrestled with it for so long, wishing for something more daring or straightforward, or a little bit of both. “I'm nothing like her at all,” I thought, as I closed the book, "She's so maternal, so doting." Then I picked up a string, twirled it around, and sang to my kittens. One launched on my shoulder, and we marched around the house while the other waited on the bed for her cuddles. No, I'm not like Wendy at all.

NaNoWriMo and the Story Grid

November approaches. I've seen a ton of advice from numerous writers on how to prepare for NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. My favorite source so far? The most recent episode of The Story Grid podcast, where Shawn Coyne waxes eloquently on this topic.

Just a brief digression on The Story Grid. In his years of working as an editor, Shawn Coyne created this system to figure out what makes books work. He ended up writing a book about it, and now he appears on a weekly podcast, along with Tim Grahl, where they analyze writing and explain why it does or does not work. I have learned a great deal from this podcast.  I also have the book, but it is not written for my brain or maybe it's just that I'm not a visual learner. I have tried to read it three times, and I keep putting it down. I blame the graphs.

Anyway, I love this episode because it's helpful to writers who want to knock out a 50,000-word first draft in the month of November, and it's also great advice for novelists at any time.  Coyne had me at hello because he uses Charlotte's Web as his example in this episode. He advises his listeners to pick a genre before starting your project. In order to figure that out, he suggests that you think about what you love to read and use one of those books as your model. (For Kate and the Horses, I thought about Charlotte's Web and Harriet the Spy.) He then recommends that you read the book again and pick out scenes that feel important to you. He stated that those are most likely obligatory scenes of your genre, and so you would need to make sure they find their way into your story. For example, if you're writing a romantic comedy, you need a "meet cute" scene. You need a "romantic moment" and a "break-up due to misunderstandings" scene. You need a scene where the best friend gives the protagonist timely advice. You need a scene where the protagonist unceremoniously dumps the caddish romantic rival. And you need that final scene where the protagonist is running to the train station or through the airport, so that she can tell her romantic soulmate that she finally understands. Fade out on the embrace.

In this episode, Coyne inspired me. I listened to his words while I walked up a country road, and I wanted to hear everything, and I wanted to run home and work on my book. I hope it motivates you, too.

Talk about Character

So the talk I ended up giving revolved around character. Here's what I basically said:

When I'm thinking about developing a character, one of the first things I want to know is, what is the character's dream? For example, in Kate and the Horses, Kate wants to have friends. Why doesn't she? Well, this is a character who is both shy and brash. She is unable to speak when it's important for her to express herself. When it would be a good time to stay quiet, she chatters things that are not appropriate to the situation. She basically does not understand social norms. So those are her flaws that will hinder her from her goal What are strengths that can help her? She's very smart. She's imaginative. She's determined. She has moxie.

Next, I would want to look at the other characters around Kate. How do they aid and/or discourage her in going after her dream? In Kate's family, her father is a pediodontist, a children's dentist, who loves his work. Kate hears stories of other children their friends, and activities. She wishes she could be more like them. Her father is disciplined and focused and does not always welcome flights of fancy. Her mother is a singer. She is one of those charismatic people that is adored by her audience. Both of these parents love Kate. They want to be her ally. However, Kate sometimes feels that she might as well be living on a planet far away from them. They cannot possibly understand her.

Here is a place where I'm going to step away from what I said in my presentation: I have been asked if Kate is autistic. I don't know. I just imagined a girl and what she would say, and that's how it turned out. I did decide to set the story in the seventies, as this was a time when children were not typically diagnosed. Kate is figuring all this out on her own.

Now back to the talk. In every story, there are allies and antagonists. In Kate and the Horses, there are mean girls. There is a stable owner with important rules. There's a camp counselor who understands. And there are horses, sacred souls who help this girl figure out how to participate in the world and reach her dreams. That's what it's all about.